Abbey Amendments
by Freya Thorine
Summary: A drabble compilation of comical events that happened to Liswano of Southsward at Redwall Abbey between the end of "The Journey Home" and "The Sword and His Flowers." Rated T for language and crass comments. (Short tales, mini-series)
1. Throw Down

**Author's Note: Okay, here's the deal. There's a little blurb of time between _The Journey Home_ and _The Sword and His Flowers_ that is not covered in either of those stories. That coupled with the requests I've gotten _demanding_ more of Lis' character, I've devised a little mini-series about the Southsward Fighters and their time at Redwall prior to TSAHF. It's going to be told in first person from Lis' POV, so expect some (or lots) crass humour and possibly (inevitably) inappropriate comments. :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Redwall Series (they are owned by Brian Jacques), however there are original characters who are inarguably of my own design.**

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**Throw Down**  
_Liswano_

Under normal circumstances, I didn't mind the odd assembly. Sure, they were all pomp and mop, but in the end there was always a feast which always made up for standing around, even if it was for hours and hours and hours and hours… and hours and hours and hours and hours… and hours. Many times I stood up with my family at all different gatherings for either Carminackian or Southswardian events and had become quite the master of sleeping standing up. It's actually easy once you get the hang of it; you just brace your legs, lock your knees and keep your paws clasped behind your back for balance. Your head will drop forward, and that's okay- makes you look more solemn anyhow. And stop giving me that look of disappointment- I wasn't the only one who did it. Lars taught me how to do it after all and who the 'Gates do you think taught him, eh? Ya, if Pop didn't have to do so much talking at those bloody things, he'd be dozing right along with us.

Yet that was in Southsward where I was all swagger and had at least a pawful of maidens batting eyes at me and a pair picked out for a good tumble after I was wined and dined. See why it was not such a big deal to me? Minor inconvenience made easy by a snooze followed by a full belly and an empty sack. Worth every blasted moment I had to wear those fine-trimmed mantles and silver links of state, if you ask me.

But this… this assembly was at Redwall Abbey; and not just any assembly at that- nope this one was the Convocation of the Novices. The feast and some music were on the card for after the ceremonies, there were a few things corrupting my system. First off, there was no extravagant fineries to gawk at, no performances between speeches to hold my attention and above all, I couldn't get my nap in with the depressing display before my eyes.

It was quite literally a parade of death. One by one the daisies of spring walked past us from our vantage point on the east side of the Great Hall. Colours from the stained glass windows bathed them in the warmth of spring light and I could only watch as they trod towards their demise at the dais where Abbess Germaine was accepting their vows to the Redwallian Order. They should have been lively and skipping around in the grass, skirts hiked up to their knees and headfur loose to the breeze. Instead, they were frocked, caped and wimpled. If I had functioning ducts, the sight would have brought tears to my eyes, but instead I laid a sorrowful paw over my heart.

"Should have worn black, Rath," I confessed. "'Tis as bad as a funeral."

"Shh," was his response and Mr. Formality kept his eyes focused forward. I cocked my head to the side and pondered for the thousandth time if the two of us were switched at birth. He always did have that more _noble_ sense of decorum then I did, but I blame my lack of it on my parents… and being the baby of the litter… and being rich. It's comical how easy it is to condemn your bad behaviour on being spoiled rotten- and how quickly others buy into it without question.

"Aw, now that's a waste," I sighed as a pretty lass walked past hidden beneath layers upon layers of gray fabric covering her from chin to footclaw. "See where her waist cord sits… ah, she's hiding a pair of long legs beneath that habit," I mumbled and winked at Florgin. "The longer the leg, the better the grip, eh laddie?"

Poor Florgin turned as red as the walls from ear to tail. So easy to rattle, that mouse was, at least when it came to maids.

"Lis, keep your voice down," Ratherwood muttered out of the side of his mouth and I even caught Martin flick an ear back at my comments. Seeing as it was more of a ceremony for the abbey's order, the laddie-buck got to skip the dais and hang back with us and though he stood at the vanguard of our sideline, no doubt he was catching every word I was saying. 'Gates, even Barklad had a good chuckle from that blurt and he was six beasts down from us; huh, I guess I wasn't being that quiet.

"Just pointing out the obvious is all, Rath," I whispered back. "What kind of creature would I be if I just stood there and watched them make the worst mistake of their lives without saying anything?"

"The kind of beast that isn't going to get _gagged_ for the next assembly."

It was Martin who grumbled that retort out and I skewed my face in thought and shrugged my shoulders, but held my tongue… for another two creatures before I started up again.

"Such a shame." I shook my head as a homely fieldmouse sauntered by, her oversized eyes dwarfing her stubby nose. "Such a terrible shame."

"That one?" Rowik gaped. "She's nothing to stare at Lis."

"Rookie," I scoffed and I heard Ratherwood mumble, 'here we go again,' as I cracked my knuckles and cleared my throat, lightly of course. "What do you mean she's nothing to stare at, Wikky?"

"Look at her face," he sneered. "It's nothing… pretty."

"So she's a butter-face," I chortled. "Look at those hips… whew! She'd be a screamer."

"Butter-face?" he asked with the innocence of a dawn. "What's a butter-face?"

I think every male's ears within twenty paces of me perked to hear my explanation. "A butter-face… everything is good, but-her-face!"

Paws clamped down hard on snouts, chuckles were covered up by coughs and heads bowed down to hide our grins. Across the way, the already vowed-in Brothers and Sisters stood as a solid wall of green habits with beady eyes glaring away at us (a.k.a. me) poking fun at their way of life. Ha! Poking fun. A truer pair of words there never was. _Poking_ was _fun_ and the whole lot of them simply had their tails in a knot they never got to or wouldn't ever get to do it again. It was all I could do not to bend over and tell them to kiss my ex-lordy bum.

Martin turned back to me, his eyes twinkling with laughter, and held a finger to his lips as he chuckling shushed me. "Button it," he said which as much authority as a butterfly- which is all be could probably muster at that particular time. _Button it_. The things these Midlanders think sound like threats.

There was a rustle of creatures and the overwhelming smell of pine needles and roasted chestnuts tickled my nostrils. I felt my shoulders stiffen in anticipated verbal combat. What the bloody hell was she doing over here?

"All of you had better hush up!" _Lady_ Amber hissed in my ear. "You're causing a scene."

"And you aren't?" I shot back before I could stop myself. There was something about that squirrelmaid that just rubbed me the wrong way… always. I turned to my right and there was Mossflower's illustrious squirrelqueen bedecked in her coronet and purple overrobe. You know, the way Amber stood with her tail curled over her shoulder made me feel like it should be sporting fangs and a forked tongue. The thing looked more like a hairy serpent than a beast's tail and the amount of rings she placed on it could have served as its markings. Just once, I wanted to jab a claw at the fluffy thing to see if it tried to bite back… just once.

"Well, somebeast had to come over and tell you _all,"_ she stressed and looked around at all of us still having a good smirk, "to be quiet. You're ruining the ceremony."

"Enlightening it, actually."

She bumbled on her words for a moment. "What would you know about it- you're only here for the food."

"Oh, look who finally caught on."

"Lis!" Martin and Ratherwood snapped at me in unison.

Amber narrowed her eyes and twitched the tufts in her ears. "Make a joke all you like, but just remember your friend there," she tipped her head to Martin, "had a mind to join the Order once; not to mention a few of your Southward fighters have as well!"

"The older ones that are done with war, lassie," I growled out, defensive as always to my legionnaires. "Veterans that deserve a well-rested retirement."

"They could have just gotten married," she huffed with a slow smile of self-proclaimed triumph curling her lips. "They could have married and put all these- what did you call the novices? Shames? - to good use."

Marriage. Ridiculous notion if there ever was one.

"Well, I guess the Order just had more going for them," I said and showed her my back. Seasons, did that ever piss her off- every time. Now it was my turn to smile. I loved a good fight; physical or verbal. Got my blood pumping and I knew, as did every beast around me knew with the exception of Queen Puff-tail, that I _never_ lost a fight.

"And why would that be?" she demanded.

I shrugged like it was nothing. "The Order offers something that marriage doesn't."

"And what's that?"

"Circumstance Dependability."

"Circumstance Depen- what?" she questioned. Everybeast within thirty paces literally turned their bodies towards our dispute. "What in the Seasons is that?"

"Circumstance Dependability, lassie," I said in a plain tone. "It simply means they know after twenty seasons- that Order is still going to _suck."_

The whooping laughter echoing up into the nave sounded my victory charge. Huh, I loved winning.


	2. Punishment

**Special thanks going out to those who reviewed the last chapter- koryandrs, Diane, MrDill and Saraa Luna.**

**And sorry, this wasn't posted earlier- I thought I had updated it last week... sigh. What can I say- it's been busy.**

**Now, the last chapter- yes, Lis' attitude was blunt, rude and well very Lis. That being said, he was always on the top rung of the ladder where people couldn't really reprimand him... not so much now... ;)**

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**Punishment  
**_Liswano_

For three whole hours I sat in the Abbess Apartments of Redwall before a panel of senior Brothers and Sisters and listened to them whinging over my crass behaviour, my snide remarks, my… how did Brother Montrel phrase it? Oh, yes – my disrespect for the Order of Redwall. I felt as though I was truly on trial: There I sat, in a chair pulled ten paces back from a long table occupied by Abbess Germaine and four other abbeybeasts, with Martin and Bella standing off to the side. At least they spared me the irritation of Lady Amber's company.

Over and over like a set of claws running down slate they berated me on my actions during the convocation ceremonies, not listening at all when I kept correcting them there was in fact _no action_, but that just seemed to make them madder than a bee from a clubbed hive. 'Gates, it was just words.

"This is a very important time in our novices' lives," Sister Meriam snapped and slapped her paw flat on the table before her. "And you made a mockery of it- making fun and causing a ruckus. The poor creatures were mortified…"

"They couldn't hear what I was saying," I said defensively and crossed my paws over my chest. "And as to the laughter- if beasts didn't agree with me, they wouldn't have found my comments funny."

"You just think everything is a joke," Montrel chimed in. "It is only because of our abbey, our _Order_, that you are alive to sit in that chair today; and yet you still point a claw and make jests at our hospitality-"

"See here, laddie, I'm alive because of your champion not your ruddy red walls, so don't start giving yourself airs." I hated when they played all lordy with me.

"Laddie?" he scoffed. "Liswano, I'm twice your age!"

"Aye, but you comprehend like half."

"You ungrateful toad-"

_"__Toad-_ I'm not the one wearing green."

"Enough." Abbess Germaine words were quiet, yet fell like a hammer to an anvil. At once the room went quiet. "All of your jabbering is hurting my ears."

"This is accomplishing nothing," Bella snarked from the sidelines. "Germaine, the Brothers and Sisters are simply throwing out complaints like accusations. And Liswano," she paused and gave Martin a sigh, "Liswano is being himself."

And who else did she think I was going to be? Fates' Fire, I had already locked up half of myself and thrown away the key- did they honestly think I was going to chain up the other half?

"What Lis said was inappropriate, yes," Martin relented, but held my gaze which meant he wasn't going to completely throw me under the ballista. "But the fact remains, none of the novices did hear his words."

"That doesn't make them any less wrong," Montrel countered. "He needs to be punished."

"If you are going to punish Lis for speaking, then you had better punish every other beast for laughing," Martin shrugged. "Myself included. I, too, laughed at his jests."

Meriam gaped. "But he was the one who said those hideous things- the one who started it…"

"And we were all the ones to end it when we sniggered. Insult is insult, whether it be from the creature who starts it or the one who ends it- both are just as guilty as the other."

"This is ridiculous."

"I second that motion." I piped in there and the four toads glared at me. Apparently I should have croaked. Literally.

"This is getting us nowhere," Germaine huffed out. "My dear Brothers and Sisters, Martin and Bella- would you excuse us. I would like a private word with Liswano."

Oh, great- private word. This ought to be rich.

They filed out and I stayed with my arse glued to the seat of the wooden chair, I wasn't rising for them. Martin was the last to leave and looked back at me over his shoulder; wagging a claw at me he mouthed the words 'behave' and I answered him with an exaggerated bob of my head and roll of my eyes. The sooner I got out of this tripe, the better.

"Now, Liswano," the abbess said in almost a wistful tone once the latch clicked shut on the door. "Would you mind adding another log to the fire? I'm afraid these old bones of mine feel the spring dampness a little more than they used to."

How could I say no to an old lady, eh? Without a word I slipped from my chair and went to the hearth. Stupid Orderites who made her fire. They had the logs built all wrong- piles upon piles of wood squished in on top of another; suffocating it so the fire couldn't breathe. Flames needed freedom to air in order to burn bright. They needed space and less restriction and…

"Interesting," Germaine mused as she came up behind me and settled on her cushioned chair. "Most creatures would have given it a few jabs with a poker and tossed on a few more pieces."

I latched onto another log with the pinchers and moved it to the side of the grate, off the main blaze. Almost instantly the fire roared up again into a swirl of orange and yellow flares. "I'm not most creatures, Mother Abbess."

"No, you are not, Liswano," she confirmed and motioned for me to take up the other pillowed armchair. "Tea?"

"No thanks."

"Cordial?"

"I'm fine."

There was a pause between us and she cocked her head to the side to look at me over her spectacles. "This is the time when you tell me what really happened, Lis."

I just blinked at her. "You know what happened."

"I heard you ran your mouth," she retorted. "I didn't hear why."

I pondered that phrase for a moment. Why. Loaded word if ever there was one. The type Ratherwood would have a hayday with analyzing and debating; but for me, it meant simple give me your reason for doing something.

"I don't really know why," I confessed. "Just how I felt about the whole thing, I suppose."

"You feel the creatures joining the Order are wasting their lives?"

"When they are young and have the world in front of them, yes." It was a plain answer, but a truthful one.

"But it is their choice," she countered and swept a gestured paw around the room, "perhaps being part of the Redwall Order is the world in front of them. Have you ever thought of that, Lis?"

_No._

"It is hard for an outsider to understand sometimes," she continued at my blank expression. "But when it comes down to it, it is what the beast makes it. To some it is retirement, to others camaraderie; to some, it is security, to others, its hope. But whatever the motives are for joining us, it is peace at the heart of it. That is what the Order stands for- peace for all kind."

"Peace is not always won with a kind word and a habit," I argued. "Most times it is won at the point of a blade."

"Yes, and that is why there are brave creatures such as yourself to fight for us when words are past the call of regard."

Again there was silence between us and I started getting antsy. I alternated strumming my claws on the armrest and tapping my footpaw, all the while keeping my eyes glued on the fire.

"You hate sitting still, Liswano," she observed. "Why?"

"You sit still too long and you start to grow roots," I blabbed out an old saying. Germaine laughed and leaned forward in her chair.

"You know why they say that?" she said, her eyes twinkling. "It means- you sit long enough and think about it, you'll start to conform." I gave a snort and a short laugh, and she stretched back up and waved her paw. "Just the adult version of sending a naughty Dibbun to their room or sit them in a corner. If they think about it long enough, they start to see it your way."

I chuckled. "Never worked much on me as a lad."

"No, you fell asleep in your chair waiting to be released no doubt." It was amazing to me how Abbess Germaine could read a beast so well, she could even correctly recount things that happened in our past- a past she would have never known about. She was right of course- I did sit in the corner many times and many times I fell asleep waiting for grown-ups to see things _my way._

"Which is why I dismissed the others," she continued. "You would have sat in that chair until we were all blue in the face, arguing your point until sheer frustration would have commanded us to dismiss you."

"They didn't hear anything…" I sighed and prepared to start again, but Germaine raised her paw.

"I don't want to hear it. You acted disrespectfully towards our new novices and will never do that again." It was not a question, but a statement. "Though I do feel you need to be involved more with our ways if you are going to gain an appreciation of our Order."

"Aha, what?" I said nervously. "You want me to become like… you?"

"No, not at all," she simpered and pulled her shawl closer around her frail shoulders. "I want you to find a purpose for yourself in the abbey- something more than patrolling and training. I want you to contribute to Redwall so that you may learn of our importance first paw and that others may learn to respect you in other ways than for a quick joke."

"Like what?" I was almost afraid to ask… no, I was afraid to ask. Seasons of scrubbing pots and cleaning windows flashed before my eyes.

"Oh, you'll think of something," she smiled at me. "You have a week to think on it."

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**A little bit more of a serious chapter, but one that leads into something quite interesting about Lis... not to mention a few more laughs in the next installment. ;)**


	3. Punching Holes

**Special thanks to minkspit and MrDill for reviewing the last chapter. Here's another quick installment to this series... **

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**Punching ****Holes****  
**_Liswano_

I awoke to my blanket being ripped off my body and a pitcher of ice cold water tossed on my head. Immediately, I bolted upright.

"FLORGIN!" My voice rumbled the very arches of the dormitory ceiling.

"I'm not Florgin," was the response followed by another wave of half frozen liquid. I swear a chunk of ice hit me in the nuts. Gates, he must have scooped it right out of the bloody abbey pond.

I sputtered and dried my face with the sleeve of my nightshirt (which for the record I _hated_ wearing, but it was another of these Redwallers rules- always had to be covered up, you know) willing my eyes to adjust to the grim-faced mouse before me. Only Martin could throw two rounds of water at a beast and still hold a straight face.

"Ah! I'm already awake!"

"Then get up," he replied and tossed me a towel from the washstand. "You and I have to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what."

"I ate the last tartlet last night?" _Or at least I dreamed I did. _

He just crossed his paws over his chest and glared at me. "Try again."

"You're being bloody ridiculous," I muttered and wiped my face dry. "I have no idea what you are talking about, laddie."

"You're pushing the limits here, Lis. I'm sick of dodging arrows for you. You told me you were going to start to behave. You told _Abbess Germaine_ you would try harder. Great Gates, she even went lenient on your punishment, allowing you to pick your own trade, and this is how you repay her? How you show her _respect?"_

I thought for moment over what he could be so riled up about. I hadn't even been at the fiking abbey to muck anything up, let alone get into any mischief. An hour after I was dismissed by Germaine, I found myself leading small contingent on a patrol to the south eastern span of Mossflower and left immediately; no doubt Martin's invention to get me away from the abbey until the Orderites cooled their paws a bit. We hadn't run into any trouble and simply walked two days to the sun, had a one day layover in a quaint little town called Dorton and then marched our tails two days back home. As it was, we had only been back at Redwall for little over a day and I had helped Bella with the Dibbuns. Nothing to get into trouble about that and – ah, that was it. Dorton.

"Okay, I know what I did was… wrong," I started and wriggled the towel in my ear with a claw to extract the water. "But I had good intentions…"

"How can poking a hole in something pure be of good intentions?" He stabbed a claw at the air between us. I blinked at his statement. Damn, he was informed. What did he have – fleas as spies?

At my bewilderment, he snapped, "Have you no idea how long it takes to make one of those?"

_Sixteen to eighteen seasons give or take, _I thought, but didn't voice. Sarcasm was really not going to help me much right now.

"Seasons!" Martin answered for me. "Seasons of hard work just to make one… ah, Lis- we need all of them we can get our paws on and here you are _ruining _one as soon as it's made and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," I crowed. "Listen laddie-buck, it's not ruining if she consented…"

"An inanimate object can _consent,_ now can it?" I smiled and the warrior waved both his arms at me in disgust and started pacing at the end of my cot. What can I say; this had him right stressed out.

"Inanimate ob- now Martin, that's a bit harsh," I chuckled and lay back down on my now soaking wet bed with my paws clasped behind the back of my head. Smirking in memory, I added, "She wasn't that bad…"

He was so preoccupied with his rant my words didn't sink in at first. "Of all the times you could do this, why now? Spring- the turn of the season when the recorders need every scrap of paper we can… wait a tick," he spun around on his heel towards me, "what do you mean _she?"_

"I, er…" _Fike. He wasn't talking about Dorton._

"Lis, what are you talking about?"

I propped myself up on an elbow. "What am I talking about? What are _you_ talking about?"

"You- poking holes in Abbess Germaine's paper!" Martin rallied at me and produced a punctured sleeve from behind his back. "She and the others of the Order have been working on making reams for a season now and Amber saw you yesterday poking holes in it with a quill tip! I've just spent the better part of an hour listening to them whinging and mooning about it… and now here I am to make sure tripe runs all the way down the hill. Now, what the 'gates are you talking about?"

"Aha, paper," I drawled out in slow realization. His eyebrow flicked up in interest at my reaction and I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck. "Paper, paper, of course."

"Paper has a gender now?" Martin pressed and wiggled the ream before my face, before snapping it away. "Lis, what have done-"

"Nothing, laddie-buck," I assured him and rose to my footpaws to collect my clothes. Judging by the light outside it was halfway to noontide; I suppose it was time I got up anyways seeing as I was the only one left in our dormitory. "Don't worry about it."

Again the page was shoved before my face. "Lis, tell me this is the only thing you've _poked _a _hole_ in lately?"

"Define lately," I said after a moment of serious contemplation. In truth, 'lately' could mean various spans of time depending on the beast, and I just wanted to confirm we were on the same wave length. Martin, however, just gave me that unimpressed look. "Alright, alright- no." I wasn't lying. I didn't poke the hole… it had already been poked. I just merely… filled the void for a little, well, a long while. Hey, what can I say- I was famous for some things.

My answer seemed to appease him momentarily and his shoulders relaxed. Finding a chair, he settled himself down on it and rubbed his face with his free paw. He looked stressed, worn out and as though he hadn't slept in four days. Ever since those blasted roses in the abbey gardens started to bud up, Martin had been acting strangely and between the three of us, Gonff, Ratherwood and I were keeping a close eye on him.

"You aren't a very good liar, Lis," Martin said finally and leaned against the back of the chair. "Just tell me I'm not going to hear about whomever it is you've done in two seasons?"

"Most definitely not."

"Good," he sighed and looked down at the intricate bumps raised on the paper in his paw. "What is this anyway? You obviously did it for some reason."

"It's for Eilat," I informed him and gently took the sheet from his grasp. "I was teaching her the alphabet."

"Eilat? The blind maid?"

"Visually impaired," I corrected him with a slight bite to my tone. "All the other Dibbuns are learning their plain letters and writing, why should she be left out because she can't see?"

"Um, because she can't see to make them?" Martin wasn't being condescending, but merely stating the obvious. Still, I had to think him a naïve northerner for it.

"Aye, but she can _feel_ with her fingers," I stressed and flipped the page over to the roughened punctures. "See – each one of these groupings means a letter. Each letter forms a word. A word a sentence… you know how it goes. Eilat will be able to read once she memorizes the feel of each letter."

"Brilliant," Martin breathed and ran his paw over the raised dots. "Lis, that is truly brilliant."

"They've been teaching this in Southsward forever," I told him. "It's called Vraille. It originated on the Southern Isles before coming to the mainland."

"How did you learn it?" he asked. "Was it part of your regular studies when you were a lord?"

I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck as a cold sweat broke out around my shirt collar. My innards twisted and I felt my chest slam shut around my heart. "Sure," was all I said.

"Well, this is marvellous," he praised me again. "I don't know what has me more shocked – the fact you know this _Vraille_ or that you are helping one of Amber's kin!"

"Barky's," I emended. "Eilat is Barklad's niece."

The warrior chuckled at me and took the sheet so I could continue getting dressed. Selecting a black jerkin, I fastened the clasps and buckled my belt with haste. I needed to get going about my day and walk off the knots curling my stomach. I took the paper back from Martin, rolling it carefully into a scroll and tucking it under my arm as he gestured for us to leave the dormitory.

"All the same, I've never seen or heard of this before," he prattled. "We need to show the abbess… and the others. Say, you haven't declared a trade yet to her – you should do this." I raised my eyebrow at the statement and Martin added, "Teach Vraille."

"Teaching Vraille to one squirrelmaid won't take up as much time as I think those Orderites were hoping to get out of me," I replied. "I think they wanted something more… time consuming to keep my yap shut."

"Well, you can't devote too much time," he affirmed. "I still need you to continue assisting me in overseeing training and help with sentry and patrol duty.

"I think you should do this," he continued. "No, I want you to do this. I think some Vraille works would be a great addition to the collection we are creating here at Redwall. For now you can tutor Eilat until another with her condition comes along to teach and in your down time, you could translate some of the plain texts into versions with this mode of writing…"

_Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, _I thought to myself. 'Gates, not moments ago he was spewing curses at me for making holes in his bloody paper and now he was more excited than a youngster at a table full of sweets over the reason for it. Fike. Would he make up his mind?

"Yeah, yeah, it's just all dandy and such there, laddie-buck," I grumbled, "but without the proper tools it will be just damn annoying and time consuming. More hassle than it's worth."

Rounding a bend and entering the cloister, Martin took one look at the gardens ahead and stopped dead. "Ah, let's go the other way – back around and across the ramparts."

"But this is the most direct way to Cavern Hole," I protested. Using my paws in gesture I continued. "Cavern Hole means food. Food means a full belly and a full belly means I may become a little more amicable to your persuasions there, lad."

"We go around," he argued and turned on his heel. With a yell over his shoulder, he said, "And amicable or not, it's probably the only choice you have… but there was talk of need for a latrine manager…"

I bolted after the ruddy warrior. Like hell I was going to put up with any more of the Order's tripe… literally. Martin smiled as I drew even with him to which I answered with a hearty shove.

"Don't think you've won," I snipped. "I haven't said yes yet."

"No, but you haven't said no," he said simply and breathed a sigh of relief once we a good length from the gardens. "And if you truly didn't want to do this, you would have already slammed your foot down… not to mention ignore Eilat's need in the first place."

"Well, I suppose I have a soft spot for beasts dealt a bad lot from the Seasons. Most of them don't deserve it."

Martin nodded his acknowledgement and walked forward in silence. I suppose he was waiting for me to open up… tell him more about Vraille and how I came to know it. Like hell that was going to happen and the only other creature who know wasn't going to open his trap.

We got to the southern junction and I paused at the centre axis. "I'm going to need space, lots of paper and punching tools."

"Consider the space and paper done, but you may need to be more specific on these _punching_ _tools."_

"They're like needles, but with rounded tips so they don't actually puncture the paper," I explained. "There're usually five or six in a set, all different sizes for teaching at different stages.

"And tome spacers," I added, "assuming you want to archive the translations…" I continued my shopping list of requirements and his eyes grew to accommodate the scope of the assignment. And here he thought I was going to keep popping holes in sleeves willy-nilly. Pah! If you're going to be the only place in the Midlands boasting Vraille readings, you had better do it right.

"This sounds a little more complicated than I anticipated." He sighed and furrowed his brow. "Damn, I wish Germaine had consented to a forge in Redwall's plans, but she was afraid it would be regarded as a smithshop for weapons. We'll have to find a village with a forge to make these products for you. Can you draw them out?"

"I could, but as to the dimensions, I haven't got a clue." I could feel the escape door opening and the clear breeze of off-the-hook-ism filling the air around me. Now, don't get me wrong – it's not that I was lazy… I just had no desire to get more involved in Vraille than I had to. Teaching a blind squirrelmaid a simple alphabet was one thing. Becoming a beast akin to a tutor and translating texts into the dots was another matter altogether. For good measure, I added, "It would be easier to just go to Southsward and buy the damn tools." Ha, like that would happen – there was a fiking ash bucket of a desert between us and no experienced travellers at Redwall, save Martin and any of my fighters; and the likelihood of any of us leaving was next to nil.

"Trimp's been stomping her paws for a little bit of roving," Martin mused and cocked his head to the side. "And Skip said Folgrim's been antsy for some fighting…"

My eyes near popped out of my head. "You're going to send a hogmaid and an old, once-crazed otter into Southsward over Vraille materials?"

"Ffring has a unit of Fur and Foot Patrol Fighters that tour down as far as the wastelands; they can tag along on the next march and the Loamhedge mice can provide them with the knowledge to pass through the sands and you –"

"Hold on a moment there, laddie," I chortled and gave his rambling plans a snort of dislike. "There's no way across Asynth's Ditch."

We paused before the back doorway to the kitchens. "Who told you that?" he grinned.

* * *

And they all jumped at the idea. The abbess, Orderites, travellers… the whole lot of them smiled and clapped and swooned over a bunch of raised dots they had seethed over an hour ago and fawned about the idea of a journey they didn't know existed until then. I simply shook my head at the guileless excitement that wove through the nave of the Great Hall. If they were this wound up about Vraille and a merchant mission for punching tools, by the Seasons' they must have been hyperventilating when Martin, Gonff and Dinny set off on their quest to Salamandastron. Apparently, they needed to get out more.

And Trimp and Folgrim – those stupid fikers set out within a week. Oh sure, the long ears agreed to escort Trimp and Folgrim down to the Ditch, and out of nowhere Abbess Germaine pulled out a damned map that showed Asynth's Footprints – the only path through the wastelands. Where the hell was that when I wanted to get from Southsward to Mossflower, I ask you. That little bit of knowledge would have saved me riding the waves with that insufferable Wayte Tydefell, but I suppose those Loamhedge mice had to know where the ancient trade roads were seeing as their old homestead was smack dab in the middle of the desert.

Then it was up to us to play our parts in this grand adventure. Jalen and Skipton, being Nor-sos (what we deep southers called north southers), told the duo how to get from the Ditch to the town of Keninal where their kin would put them up (if they were still alive that is), and Lochlan and Gowren the Mid-sos (mid southers) got them to Carminack.

"Stay away from a place called 'Floret,'" Ratherwood cautioned them. "It's a castle supposedly getting built for a squirrelking of some sort when we left Southsward, but who knows what affiliation they have with any of our connections."

All I could think was 'fiking squirrels' as I scratched out a letter to my brothers. If they even made it as far as the mid-southlands, having an acquaintance with my family would probably keep their heads on their necks and if they ever made it to Carminack – heh, they were going to need all the help they could get. Laec would have his head shoved up his arse, but with any luck Lars would be at port and see them well looked after. After all, they would need coins to purchase the Vraille materials and I asked in the letter they were given my inheritance to buy the tools. Again, Laec would be a pain in the rump, but Lars would acquiesce to my request. I hoped.

Just as I was handing off the missive, Chugger came out of nowhere and insisted he was going too. Wanted a little adventure with his Uncle Folgrim, he said. Fates-be-damned the squirrelet was just out of his toddler seasons and they were considering taking him along!

I thought they were all mad. Did it not register with any of the mid-land bumpkins that we fighters _left_ the rancid country for a reason? Like we could actually fight for our lives and got our tails out – and they were what? A maid, a gaffer and a youngster. Oh, like they had a great shot… of getting killed for stupidity. It would have made more sense (and far less time and pain) to just jump off the empty bell tower of Redwall. Then when they announced they were taking him, I rolled my eyes and walked away from the whole lot of them, enunciating my thoughts in a colourful pageantry of grumbles and muttered curses.

But regardless of my warnings, the trio left and I was set up with a little study off the main library… or at least what would one day be Redwall's library. It had a small hearth and shelves built into every wall, one long narrow window and an oaken table flanked by a series of chairs. The study was out of the way and at least gave me an excuse to warm my knees by the fire (hell, they were aching this spring). Eilat only joined me every other day for an hour or so, but I was far from lonely in my work. Since learning of my little endeavour, I seemed to have inherited a second shadow.

"Like this?" Flintin asked as he leaned closer to me with a paper held between his paws. "I looked up from my own and raised an eyebrow at the series of pin pricks. Cocking my head to the side to catch the candlelight behind the sheet, I shifted my gaze back to him.

"A 'G'?"

"No," he huffed and put the paper back down on the desk before him. "It was supposed to be a 'F'."

"Just keep trying – you'll get it," I encouraged as his shoulders slumped and mouth puckered into a tense frown. "Don't give up, Flintin."

He nodded and looked at my master copy again, sighing and seeming as low as a slug. He had been trying to learn the script for a week now, watching as I taught Eilat and trying his own paw at it when I was working on some translation pages. Every day after training he followed me back to the small chamber, but as much as the poor lad tried, he wasn't making his mark.

"Maybe you should learn how to write common letters first, laddie," I suggested and he remained silent. "You could always sit in with the Dibbuns while Bella teaches them… I'm sure the ol' stripedog wouldn't mind."

"They're all so young," he muttered. "They'd only laugh at me."

"Maybe at first, but they're learning, too. They don't really have much of a leg to stand on." He shook his head and looked over into the fire as if willing the flames to give him strength. "Do you know any of your letters, lad?"

"Florgin's grandfather taught me how to write my name the season we stayed in Flamring," he relented and took a quill from the inkwell and scroll out, "F-L-I-N-F-I-N."

"FLIN-_T-_IN," I corrected him. Reaching over the table, I placed my paw over his and showed him how to correct the middle letter. "There, see. _Flintin."_

He blushed from ear to tail. "Ugh. I can't even do that right."

Standing up, the adolescent mouse walked over and placed another log on the blaze and for once, I didn't know what to say. Growing up, I had everything I wanted and tutors coming out of my arsehole. I had taken basic reading and writing as a general rite of passage, knowing full well there were creatures out there that _didn't_ know how to do it, but yet I didn't acknowledge how limiting it was, nor how inferior it made some to others. Fates' Fire, even Ratherwood had learned basic letters and words from his father before Rayley passed on and they were servants. I guess I just assumed all beasts had an innate ability to pick it up whenever they wanted; and now as I experienced directly the struggle of Southsward's educational plight, I started to appreciate the abbey's diligence in schooling all the youngsters in Redwall as well as those throughout Mossflower who came to attend lessons.

"I know it doesn't bug Florgin that he can't read or write," Flintin confessed in a low tone reflecting the mood of the dank, grey day outside our sanctuary. "But I at least want to be able to say I know how to do something other than fight. I don't want the Dibbuns thinking that I'm a simple blighter that can't read, so that's why I came here… to learn what you are teaching Eilat 'cause neither of you will make fun of me. I've had enough of creatures pointing claws and making jests at me to serve my lifetime."

"Well, no beast here is going to bug you about what the others did, Flintin," I said sternly and narrowed my eyes at the back of his head. His ears folded back against his skull and he murmured, "No, and I don't want them to start because of a different excuse.

"It's not like it was in Southsward, where we fought first and then did something second just to pass the time between marches," he continued. "Here, beasts do something _first_ and then fight only if they have to."

"It is different up here, lad, that is for sure," I agreed with him. "And we're all trying to fit in. Every one of us so don't you be thinking you're alone in this. It's a big change for all of us."

"I know."

"Change of subject," I said, tossing my homemade (and useless as tripe) tamper pen aside and slapping my paws together. "Are you ready for the performance tonight?"

"Sure am!" Flintin laughed and gave me a smile. "I haven't seen players since Florgin and I stayed with General Marc in Carminack… do you think they'll have tumblers?"

"Not sure, laddie," I chortled and rubbed my throbbing knee under the table. The only thing that seemed to stop the hurt these days was a hot brick pressed up against it, which I would have grabbed from its carefully concealed hiding place in the fire if I had been alone. "But at least there will be something to entertain us besides your brother's squalling."

"Yeah, I heard the leader tell Martin there was a creature that plays music with water and glass," he said and came back to the table. "It sounded interesting." Picking up the master copy of Vraille alphabet, he held it out to me. "How are you going to stop this from getting squished?"

"Just lie it over there on the shelf, Flint," I breathed and gestured to the empty wooden plank. "When the Intrepid Trio get back from Southsward with my supplies, you can help me dip it in glaze to harden and set the paper."

"I can?"

"Sure, why not?" I rose from my seat and threw a paw over his shoulders. "Now, let's go pilfer Goody's pantry and prove to Gonff he's not the only mousethief in Redwall Abbey!"


End file.
